Lagniappe
by kimbari
Summary: Cuddy wanted her, despite the bad rep, because she only hired the best. She was about to learn that diagnostics wasn't the only thing that Sharongrace House was very, very good at. Mild femmeslash.


Lagniappe  
by kimbari

_**A/N:** This fic was written for the prompt: Genderswitch _—_ Cuddy/always been a girl!House.  
Writing House as a woman was easier than I thought it would be. A woman would never get away with the stuff that House, due to a little thing called male privilege, has gotten away with all his life. However, an exceptional woman would have her own arsenal in this man's world, and it wasn't much of a stretch for me to imagine a female version of House using every weapon she had at her disposal... whether she needed to or not._

~*~

The last time Cuddy saw her, she'd been Cuddy's patient, leaving the hospital on crutches and in the company of her doting Significant Other. She had been angry, and in pain. Cuddy knew that the pain was only a small part of the reason for her anger, which mostly depended upon the fact that her wishes had been ignored... not just ignored _thwarted_. And she'd resented that. It didn't matter that thwarting her had saved her life, or that her SO loved her so much he would have done _anything_ to keep her alive. She hadn't gotten what she wanted; and that made her feral.

Cuddy wouldn't have taken a bet on how long the Significant Other was going to remain significant.

The last time Cuddy saw her she was leaving the hospital on crutches. She'd worn a long denim skirt (the better to hide but not encumber her disfigured thigh), a t-shirt emblazoned with a logo so faded as to be indecipherable, and a corduroy blazer. She'd shaken Cuddy's hand and even muttered thanks, her eyes soft-focus from the pain meds. At the time Cuddy thought she would just as soon have nothing to do with Sharongrace House when she wasn't high. Handicap notwithstanding, Cuddy knew she wouldn't come out well in any kind of match-up with the tall, arrogant woman.

This time Cuddy saw her through her glass-paned office door grilling her assistant, God knows over what. House was well-dressed in a beige skirt suit that showed a pair of long, beautifully shaped legs to their advantage despite the sensible shoes. She had a leather portfolio clamped under her arm, and wore her wavy, burnt-caramel hair down around her shoulders. She chose that moment to look into the office, directly into Cuddy's eyes and Cuddy felt a completely illogical blush suffuse her face, as if she'd been caught peeping into a bedroom window rather than studying a potential employee. House finished her palaver without looking again at the assistant, then limped to the door, leaning heavily on a polished mahogany cane.

She entered the room like a fresh breeze. "Doctor Cuddy," she said.

"Doctor House," Cuddy replied. She waved her hand toward the chairs in front of the desk. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," House said, maneuvering her long frame into the chair. "Standing hasn't been fun for me for a long time now."

That last statement tweaked Cuddy's habitual guilt. She pushed past it by opening the folder that contained House's curriculum vitae. "Thank you for coming," she began smoothly. "I...."

"Oh, no, thank _you_," House interrupted. "I realize what a leap of faith this interview is for you, considering my... ah, history." She batted her eyelashes, an incongruous gesture considering the fact that Sharongrace House was six feet tall and her looks could only be described by the most charitable as "handsome." Cuddy had the distinct feeling of being fucked-with and her guard went up.

"I'm well aware of your history," Cuddy conceded. "Nevertheless, I feel that your skill and knowledge would be an asset to this institution."

"Yes, but do the assets outweigh the liabilities?" House said, turning her head and looking at Cuddy sidewise.

_Is she_ flirting _with me?_ "That's what we're here to find out," Cuddy said, dragging her focus back to the CV. She'd forgotten how heart-stopping beautiful Sharongrace's eyes were. They were innocent of any kind of cosmetic and for that Cuddy found herself grateful. Adorned, those eyes would snarl traffic. As they were, if Cuddy wasn't careful, they would snare _her_.

House shrugged. "Have at it," she said, crossing her legs. They were very nice legs. Cuddy noticed the surreptitious assist she gave her right leg and briefly wondered if House had practiced that move.

"I have created a department of Diagnostic Medicine and I need someone to head it up. I currently have one doctor, Robert Chase, in line for a fellowship. I have a budget for two more fellows which you will have full discretion in hiring."

"Is he cute?"

Cuddy blinked. "Excuse me?"

"This Robert Chase, is he cute?" House repeated.

Cuddy managed a squirmy shrug. "I suppose so. He's not _my_ type..." She caught herself. "And that's a completely inappropriate question," she said, drawing her fine eyebrows together.

"What _is_ your type, Doctor Cuddy?" House asked, with a hint of leer. "Tall... Dark... Female?"

"That is none of your business, House," Cuddy said. "And again, that's an inappropriate question."

"My apologies, Cuddy. You mind if I call you Cuddy? We seem to be on a last-name basis, here."

Cuddy took a breath and clenched her fists over the open file folder. The woman was trying to get her goat... did she realize she was here to interview for a job? At this hospital?

"Or you could call me by my given name," House continued. "Sharongrace. One word. Unusual, isn't it? My mother is a lesbian and she named me after two of her girlfriends. My dad never had a clue..."

"Doctor House," Cuddy began, her voice hardening.

"I know, I know..." House waved a bored left hand and Cuddy noticed the huge man's watch on her bony wrist, wished she could see the time, and wondered whatever had possessed her to interview this woman when she was the unrepentant owner of a large number of reprimands and dismissals for insubordination all the way back to medical school, and most likely clear back to kindergarten.

"I'm being inappropriate." House dragged the word out until it stretched across the desk. "Sorry. I get a little cranky when the pain gets bad." And to Cuddy's horror, House reached into a well-concealed skirt pocket, withdrew an amber vial, opened it and popped two pills into her mouth, dry-swallowing with only the slightest effort showing on her face. She noted Cuddy's expression. "What?"

Cuddy held up both hands, then planted them on her desk. It might have been construed as a gesture of defeat but Cuddy had no intention of giving up. At least, not without a much bigger fight.

"Are you hungry?"

It was House's turn to blink. She thought for a moment. "No."

"I'm hungry, I haven't had lunch yet," Cuddy said. "Let me buy you something, a cup of coffee..." She closed the folder and reached for her handbag.

House brightened. "Can I have whatever I want?"

Cuddy stood and eyed House. "I thought you weren't hungry."

"That was before I knew you were buying." She planted her cane and rose.

"Business expense," Cuddy said, rounding her desk. "Let's go."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cuddy admired the way House moved, graceful despite her disability. She made her cane seem more like a fashion accessory than a means to the end of keeping her on her feet.

Cuddy had her wait at the front door while she went to get her car. House watched her walk away, noting her slender legs and curvy ass, something the astounding level of pain had left her unable to do when she was Cuddy's patient. Yes, being around that zesty bod forty hours a week was a considerable perk. One might be tempted to take the job for free....

Or not.

House made a big show of getting her bad leg into Cuddy's car, the better to play on the other woman's sympathy... and guilt. She in no way blamed Cuddy for her handicap; she'd only done as she'd been directed. Stacy was a different story. House hadn't even been aware of how much she'd blamed Stacy for her disability until he gave up on their relationship. Stacy doing an end-run around her wishes on the surgery had been bad enough; the thing House _really_ couldn't forgive was his not realizing that no matter what she told him, it was _not_ "all right" and never would be. Every minute of every day House had pounded that home until the man couldn't take it any more.

And of course the bastard had left her just when she needed him.

"A penny for your thoughts," Cuddy said, her eyes on the road.

House looked over at her, admired her profile. After a long moment she said, "I was thinking about Stacy."

Cuddy remembered the devastatingly handsome man who had wept as he signed the release for House's surgery. _She's gonna hate me for this,_ he had told her, and when Cuddy assured him that he was saving House's life, he'd smiled sadly and said, _She won't see it that way._

"How is Stacy?"

"Gone," House said shortly, and for the first time since she walked into her office, Cuddy heard something other than snarky superiority in House's voice. "We broke up."

Cuddy stole a glance at her passenger. House's eyes were fixed on the road ahead, her long face set. "I'm sorry to hear that," Cuddy said softly. She could see movement from the corner of her eye as House's head whipped around to look at her, as if she'd said something shocking. Cuddy glanced over again and caught House's assessing look.

"He was a hunk, wasn't he?" House murmured. "Women swooned in his presence – and they all wondered what the hell he was doing with me." She shifted in her seat, stretched the seat belt, then said, "He was incredible in bed, too. He could go for hours..."

"I'm sure this is something I don't need to hear about," Cuddy said, frowning, her eyes steadfastly on the road.

House shrugged. "He's free as far as I know. I'd give you his number if I knew it. You're definitely his type."

"I'm not like you," Cuddy said without thinking.

"Precisely," House said dryly.

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't worry about it. My ass is big, almost–" She clamped her lips shut on the rest of that thought. Wouldn't do to insult Cuddy before Cuddy hired her. There would be plenty of time after...

"We're here!" Cuddy announced, and the relief in her voice made the corners of House's mouth quirk upward.

The little bistro was quiet with only three other people there having a late lunch. Cuddy and House sat at a table by the window, Cuddy with her chicken salad and House with her club sandwich. For a long time, nothing was said as they munched their food.

"How are the benefits?" House asked. She took a bite of her sandwich, eyeing the other doctor. Cuddy raised her eyebrows, then remembered she was conducting an interview. _How nice of you to steer me back to the subject at hand,_ Cuddy thought, irritated that she hadn't done it herself.

"Stellar," Cuddy said, and House nodded.

"You do realize that I'll need special accommodations because I'm a cripple." House said this very smoothly, and Cuddy got that fucked-with sensation again.

"The hospital is ADA compliant, of course. The handicap parking spaces..."

"There are so many things I can't do, now that I'm disabled," House said, putting on a Poor Pitiful Pearl mug that was so transparent Cuddy nearly laughed in her face.

"You're not _that_ disabled," Cuddy said, recovering. "I expect the same professionalism and fulfillment of obligations from you as I do all my other doctors."

"But not clinic duty," House declared.

"It's in the job description..."

House waved that away, "Job Description: Suggestions on paper to prove you're in compliance with state and federal regulations."

Cuddy stared at her. House looked serious. Cuddy said, "For someone looking to get hired, you don't act as if you want the job."

"I don't do anything the way other doctors do, Cuddy." House was still serious. "I was under the impression that was why you wanted to hire me. Do you want me to work for your hospital or not?"

"I do," Cuddy said. The truth. "But you're making it very hard for me to do right by my patients, not to mention my staff, and I haven't even extended an offer."

"The patients are my main focus," House said. "Nothing matters to me more than that."

"A patient is a he or a she, House," Cuddy said. "Not a 'that'."

"With a few exceptions," House allowed. "Can I assume we've found an area of agreement?"

"We have," Cuddy said, still a little wary.

"So, where do I sign?"

House had left Cuddy feeling as if the other side in a tug of war had let go of the rope at the precise moment she'd put her back into pulling it: flat on her ass. In an effort to regain control, she reached out and laid her hand on House's hand. House looked at Cuddy's hand on hers, then up at Cuddy. Cuddy leaned closer, directly into the other woman's personal space. "Am I going to have trouble with you?" she asked.

House thought about it, staring back into Cuddy's eyes. "Nothing you can't handle," she replied.

Cuddy sat back; her hand stayed where it was. _What in the hell does _that _mean?_ "Fair enough," she said out loud, then pointed to the remains of House's sandwich. "You want another?"

House pretended to preen. "I really shouldn't, my figure..."

Cuddy snorted. "Oh, please, you're an ectomorph! You wouldn't gain weight if you strapped a couch to your back." House laughed and Cuddy smiled in response. House was very pretty when she laughed. "You should take advantage of my generosity while you can," Cuddy told her. "You never know when it'll come around again."

House gazed at Cuddy speculatively, her eyes still crinkled with laughter. "I would love to take advantage of you," she said. "My place or yours?"

Cuddy felt a little jolt, a tingle between her legs. She took her hand off House's. "The benefit package does not include access to my body." She hoped she didn't sound as weird to House as she sounded to herself.

"It should," House said. "Your turnover would drop to zero." Cuddy opened her mouth to speak and House forestalled her with, "And no this isn't sexual harassment. It's only harassment when the _boss_ makes the pass." Her blue eyes glittered. "You make a pass at me, not only will I not file a complaint, I will make sure you see the nine faces of God."

Cuddy's mouth was still open as she wondered if House was insane, crazy, or just a garden variety egomaniac. _'nine faces of God?' Yeah, right._ And why was she even taking this woman's babble seriously? Cuddy gathered her wits enough to say, "I had no idea you were..."

"Gay?" House interrupted. "I'm not. Ask Stacy. I made him happy and he's all boy." She paused, then showed her teeth in a deliciously lascivious grin. "And you're all girl," she continued and leaned toward Cuddy. "So much girl you've got me switching sides..."

"Oh, don't be silly," Cuddy said, shifting in an attempt to put more space between them. _God, she smells so good._ In a way that had nothing to do with perfume... and why was she just noticing this _now?_

"I'm perfectly serious," House said. "Come on, Cuddy... you know I know where everything is." She sighed and smiled. "I would love to screw you."

_I just bet you would...._ The blush that had started between Cuddy's legs finally made it to her face. Breathlessly, she said, "That would be totally—"

"Inappropriate, yeah, I know the drill," House interrupted. "Still, you only live once. If I take the job, I don't have to go to work until Monday." Her expression turned devious. "_If_ I take the job."

"Maybe you didn't notice, but I haven't _offered_ you the job, yet," Cuddy pointed out. "And the longer I talk to you, the less reason I have to hire you."

"Bullshit," House said, her face complacent. "You don't take people you don't intend to hire to lunch. I've asked around. A successful interview with you doesn't last longer than ten minutes. You want me," House said, nearly sang, and she smiled again. And again, Cuddy was struck by how sweet that smile was; the total antithesis of the arm-twisting its owner was currently engaged in.

"I want your skills," Cuddy said.

"And they are at your disposal... if you'll come back to my place. I am dying to show you my etchings." House showed her teeth, a sharp and distant cousin to the sweet smile she'd just displayed.

Cuddy sputtered. "I have never... in my life..."

"Then it's time," House said, her voice low, soft and sexy. Before Cuddy could stop her, House took her hand and pressed her lips into the palm. The jolt between her legs this time was so strong she gasped, even as she reacted to the sensation of House's kiss. She stifled a moan and said,

"Do you always try to seduce your potential employers?" Cuddy was relieved when it came out sounding coherent.

"Only the hot ones," House said, and before Cuddy had a chance to wonder if this was yet another chapter in the fuck-with-Cuddy saga House appeared to be writing, she continued, "and you are the hottest." Her eyes slid down her cleavage. Cuddy could almost _feel_ the caress. _Shut this down, Lisa,_ the wise woman who lived inside her head said. _Shut it down NOW!_

"Let go of my hand," Cuddy said. Her voice was steady, calm, cool. House, sensing that playtime was over, did as she was bid. She sat back in her chair.

"You're no fun at all," she pouted.

"I'm not looking for fun," Cuddy said sternly.

"Then you're an idiot..." House muttered.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Cuddy's brows had collided in a ferocious frown and her eyes were downright wintry. House held her peace. After a long moment, Cuddy said, "You're absolutely right. I _do_ want you, and nobody but you. I have it on good authority that you're the kind of virtuoso that I desperately need at my hospital. Your kind of genius doesn't come cheap but fortunately for me you couldn't get hired as a vet. So you can rest assured that you're not going to even come close to being overpaid..."

"Wait a second—"

"I'm not finished," Cuddy said, freezing the other doctor's protest. House subsided and she continued. "What you will have is a fairly free hand and a number of privileges, _none_ of which include having sex with or making passes at me, is that clear?"

"Cuddy—"

"Yes or no, House? I've spent way too much time with you already. I need to get back to the hospital."

"Are you really going to lowball me?" House whined. "Because that's really not fair..." She trailed off as Cuddy simply stared at her. "All right," she caved. "God, you drive a hard bargain!"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll make me pay," Cuddy declared.

"You got that right," House muttered.

Cuddy chose to ignore that. "So, are we good?"

House made a rueful face. "We're good."

"Great," Cuddy said and extended her hand. "Welcome aboard, Doctor House." Smiling with her eyes, House took Cuddy's hand and they shook. Cuddy pulled away first and look at her watch. "Damn," she said under her breath. "I really have to get going... Eight o'clock on Monday, House?"

"Color me there," House said. Cuddy was on her feet about to step away from the table when House said, "Oh, Cuddy? Just one more thing..."

Impatient, Cuddy said, "Yes, what is it?"

Before she had time to draw another breath, House grabbed her hand, then reached up with the other hand and, with a brief caress of fingers into silky black hair, pulled Cuddy to her. Cuddy had been so certain she was the one in control that House's tongue was in her mouth for a dozen seconds before she realized what was going on. It took her fewer seconds to realize that she liked it, and a split second after that she was kissing her back.

It took Cuddy at least a minute to realize that this was exactly what she did _not_ want but House was way ahead of her and suddenly let her go, leaving her swaying on her high heels.

Swaying and wondering if there was any sane and logical reason for her to just lean back into the tall woman and taste that mouth again. _Damn. Her._ House continued to gaze at Cuddy, triumph in her eyes mingled with something else. Sadness? A bone-deep anguish that brought out all of Cuddy's maternal instinct. Then that look was gone, as quickly as it appeared, and House appraised her with eyes that held only the curious glint of a scientist studying an anomaly.

"I know you're in a hurry," House said. She made a face. "I'll get a taxi back to my car. 'til Monday?"

Cuddy took a deep breath and blew it out. "'til Monday," she agreed, turned on her heel and walked out of the restaurant.

She couldn't be certain because she refused to look back, but she could swear that House was staring at her ass as she walked away.

End


End file.
